Hangman
by Susurruses
Summary: When the night warden discovers a secret the Sheriff has tried to bury, she must walk an increasingly difficult path between protecting her reputation and putting an end to the warden's violence. Human ThreshxCaitlyn, AU. T for violent themes.
1. Jeopardy

**Author's Note: Rated T for violent themes.**

This story was inspired by the story Chained Heat by Veltrops; you can find it under favourite stories on my profile. The cover picture used was also done by Veltrops, so if you like it do check out his profile on Deviant Art. If you enjoy the ThreshxCaitlyn pairing, there is also a fic by Kanariya 9 you can read, also under my favourites.

_Dedicated, with love, to myself 3_

* * *

**Hangman**

**1. Jeopardy**

_noun_

_[mass noun]_

danger of loss, harm, or failure: _the whole peace process is **in jeopardy**_

_Law_ danger arising from being on trial for a criminal offence.

* * *

Time passed slowly in the confines of prison. The night seemed to creep in, invading even the windowless, torch lit hallways. As Caitlyn strolled down the dim, sterile corridors she kept her back straight, each step confident. She had every right to be here she told herself, but she could still taste the guilt in the back of her mouth. Normally she wasn't one for regretting the past; but something about this particular incident had always bothered her.

She turned the corner of the empty corridor, and came face to face with rows of bars stretching into the distance. The inhabitants of the cells roused at the sound of her boots against the floor. Some turned in their beds, burrowing heads further into their thin blankets in an attempt to block out the activity. Others bared their teeth at her, rattling the bars and yelling insults. A few of those faces she recognised, faces that she had once spent months hunting down, her prey. But now she only registered them with an unsettling familiarity; they were closed cases. Never breaking her stride she passed them by, the coarse shouting and rattling seeming to ring in her eyes even as she entered the administrative section of the building. This was not an unfamiliar ritual to her; she would go through this very process every time she handed over a new prisoner, or needed to deal with paperwork. But this particular time she was here to do neither.

Caitlyn's smart rap on the door echoed hollowly within. After a moment's pause she could hear the scraping of metal as a bolt was lifted. The door swung open to reveal the night warden who ruled over the prison after dark. He peered at her from behind murky green eyes and smiled amiably. Arriving from the shadow isles seven years ago, Caitlyn had never been able to like him, perhaps appreciate the work he did, but like him? His skin was pale, pasty almost, as if he had long ago ceased to be warm. Despite the sickly pallor of his skin, his physical condition seemed to be on par, indeed exceeding in some areas, her. She had never heard of him leaving the confines of the prison, so how he managed to maintain his physical condition was a mystery to her. Long dark braids like rope ended in silver hooks past his shoulders, and swayed slightly when he moved. He wore a bone-lined coat, dark green material ending well below his knees. Caitlyn could never for the life of her figure out why he buttoned up such a heavy coat so low. The top three buttons remained undone, revealing more of his chest than Caitlyn would have felt comfortable seeing. Frankly, although she would never admit to it, it was distracting. What offended her most about the man however, were his eyes. The way they looked at you, as if they were judging you by some inconceivable standards. Those were cruel eyes, as was the man they belonged to.

"Do you make a habit of bolting your door, warden?"

"It makes me feel at home." His mouth turned up at the corners in what she assumed was a smile. "Would you deprive me of this small comfort?" As per usual his manner irked her.

"In future you will be expected to use standard locks."

"I'll keep that in mind." Again with his dismissive voice. He moved aside as he said this, inviting her into his office. It was dark outside the window and the only light came from a spluttering lantern hanging on the far wall. The dim illumination revealed a desk at one side of the room, empty even of a familiar scattering of papers, and at the other end a pair of high backed wooden chairs. Unnervingly, noted Caitlyn, chains were attached to the armrests. She watched Thresh as he crossed the room with his wide stride and rummaged around behind his desk.

"So Miss Sheriff, what brings you here?" A part of her wanted to object to his butchering of her title, but at that moment the last thing Caitlyn wanted to do was make trivial complaints.

"I'm here to see a prisoner for questioning, prisoner-" Thresh cut her off.

"Prisoner 3882." He had finally found what he was looking for in his drawer, a key. He held it out for her but Caitlyn had frozen warily. "I had a most illuminating conversation with him just last month. Nice man you know." Noticing that she wasn't moving any closer to him, Thresh strolled over to the wide eyed woman, swirling the key ring around his finger and grinning to himself. "A little strange though, seemed to think that something along the lines of a miscarriage of justice happened to him. Of course he admitted to all these crimes, breaking and entering, burglary, armed robbery, even raping his dear wife." Caitlyn reached out to snatch the key but Thresh quickly snaked out his hand, grabbing her arm. "But there was one particular crime that he repeatedly denied. I wonder why that is? Did he lie?" He looked at her, something manic glowing in his green eyes. "No one _lies_ to me Caitlyn." She glared at him, meeting his eyes with her own.

"And what proof do you have, Warden?" She spat his title out through her gritted teeth. To her chagrin he simply tilted back his head and laughed.

"You misunderstand me. I don't intend to report or blackmail you."

"Then what do you mean by your accusations?" His reply answered little.

"Nothing. I'll keep your secret. Maybe I can even be your knight in shining armour." He laughed again, a harsh cold sound that grated on Caitlyn's ears.

"Are you toying with me?" She asked in near disbelief.

"I'm bored." Was all the reply she received. Caitlyn gave him a withering glare and shook his arm off hers.

"I'm not a plaything; I'm the Sheriff of Piltover. Don't forget that." She held out her outstretched hand, and Thresh, after a moment's consideration, dropped the keychain into it.

"If you're worried about the prisoner talking," called out Thresh as she turned to leave, "don't."

Caitlyn was already halfway down the corridor when she suddenly realised that she had no idea where to find the prisoner. She slowly came to a stop and turned her head around. Thresh was leaning in the open doorway of his office, watching her with a sly grin on his face. Judging by his silence, he was going to make her ask.

"Warden, I need directions."

"Yes, you do." He agreed.

"Please," Caitlyn forced through gritted teeth, "give me my directions." _Before I shove my rifle down your throat._

"With pleasure." Thresh bowed with a flourish of his arms and glided off in the opposite direction, leaving Caitlyn little choice but to follow.

He led her past the eerily silent corridors, filled with sleeping prisoners. Strange that they did not wake up as they had when she entered. The pair entered into the south wing, filled with row after row of empty cells. Piltover State Prison had once been full to the last cell with prisoners, but now in more peaceful times entire blocks lay deserted. A testament, Caitlyn told herself, to the hard work of the police force.

"Why is the prisoner not in the main section?"

Thresh cackled. "I wonder... You'll have your privacy at least." That was true, it would save her the trouble of moving the prisoner to interrogate him. But it wasn't just the other prisoners whom she was worried would overhear her exchange. She watched the man who leisurely walked a few steps ahead of her.

"How much do you know?" She asked. He chuckled quietly to himself, giving his scythes a swing.

"Not much." he admitted. "But enough to get me curious." She noticed his eyes flick towards her.

"I suggest you keep your curiosity to yourself." Caitlyn warned.

"But I want to know." He whined at her, like a child. He was a dangerous one, this man. She remained silent, wary of betraying anything.

The cell of prisoner 3882 was dark and gloomy, and Caitlyn would have walked straight past it if Thresh had not pointed out the hunched over figure in the corner. At first she had thought that he was sleeping, but upon closer inspection she realised that his eyes were open, focused on the floor. He did not stir at their approach. She unlocked the cell door and gave Thresh a menacing look, warning him not to follow her in. He seemed content to stand just outside the cell, intently watching her movement. It was not ideal, but there wasn't much she could do about it. She had intentionally come at night time, hoping that there would be less staff to deal with. It was true, but now, with bright green hawkish eyes upon her, she rather regretted her decision.

"Samuel Riesler." She called out. He did not respond, did not even move the focus of his attention. "Samuel Riesler." she repeated. "Prisoner 3882." At this his head moved a fraction. His eyes slowly shifted towards her, resting on her shoes. "Look at me when I speak to you, prisoner." He obeyed her command, looking upwards, eyes resting on some point above her left shoulder. "Do you remember who I am?"

"Caitlyn Lightbridge. The Sheriff." He spoke in whispered monosyllables, never meeting her eyes. There was an unnatural absence in him, a wrongness. Caitlyn knelt down and looked him clearly in the face. His skin was an ashen grey, with dark bags under his eyes. Matted hair grew out to his shoulders, joining with his beard in an intangible black mess. A scar protruded discretely from behind the discoloured rags that he clothed himself in.

"What happened to you?" She asked sharply.

The prisoner mumbled in response. "Nothing."

"Nothing? What do you mean by nothing?"

"I don't know."

"Have you been mistreated in any way at the hands of the prison staff?" The prisoner's eyes wandered, before once again resting above her left shoulder. Caitlyn glanced behind her. Thresh leered at them, hands playing across the cell bars.

"No." the prisoner replied. Caitlyn stared at him. His thin clothes hung loosely over a sharp frame. Was it natural for a man to be so small?

"Take off your top." she demanded. A glint of fear flashed across the prisoner's face. He wrapped his arms around his body instinctively, defending. Wordlessly, he shook his head. "Take it off or I will take it off for you." The prisoner only tightened his arms, shrinking away from her.

From behind her Thresh's voice sounded, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Why is that?" Caitlyn asked, her suspicions all but confirmed.

"Some boxes," Thresh paused poignantly, "won't close once they've been opened."

Caitlyn ignored his cryptic remark, instead ordering the prisoner to remove his top again. And again her request was refused. As little as Caitlyn liked being disobeyed, getting into a scuffle with a prisoner such as this was below her dignity.

"He's been staring at you the whole time." she observed, tilting her head to observe Thresh's reaction. He kept a blank expression, but occasionally his mouth would begin to curl upwards, as if he could not restrain himself.

"I always was easy on the eyes." It was true that under the right circumstances Thresh might be described as handsome, but easy on the eyes he was not. There was something unnerving about him, the restlessness of his fingers, and maybe the constant mirth he wore on his face.

"Do you think that this is some sort of joke?" she asked darkly.

"No, Sheriff."

"Leave us, I'll deal with you later." She ordered him. At her command Thresh, after giving her a regrettable look, stepped back from the cell and retreated around the corner.

As he left he muttered, "I wonder if you can."

Finally alone with the prisoner, she looked down at him.

"I will ask again, have you ever been mistreated by any of the prison staff?"

"No." Caitlyn's eyes narrowed.

"How have you been treated then?"

"Good." he echoed hollowly. She saw the futility of pursuing her line of questioning and decided to return to her original purpose.

"You are scheduled for release within the next two months." she waited for some acknowledgement but he gave none. "Once you are released, you are to make no claims of innocence in relation to the case of Hursten Lightbridge. If you do then I will personally make sure that you are back in prison within a year. There are score of alleged crimes that you were never tried on, and I am not above reopening the cases." The prisoner didn't respond. "Do you understand?" She asked, firmly. Slowly, he nodded his head once.

Standing again in front of Thresh's office Caitlyn found herself so tempted to simply pass straight by it and head for the exit. But she couldn't do it.

"Warden."

"Ahh, Caitlyn, how was your conversation with the prisoner? Interesting no doubt?" He called out to her from behind his desk.

"You are aware that the prisoner rights act was passed three years ago."

"Never heard of it." shrugged Thresh, a sly grin creeping onto his face.

"That wasn't a question, warden. You _have _heard of it; I briefed all the prison staff myself." Her voice was like steel.

"He has no family now, no one will notice." The casual way in which Thresh brushed off his atrocities enraged Caitlyn. She leaned over the desk and glared down at Thresh.

"I noticed. The law _will _be enforced."

"And how do you intent to do that? Are you going to arrest me?" He was mocking her now.

"I'll report you to the Justice first. When I get her approval, I will." Thresh seemed to find this inordinately hilarious.

"In that case I might just have to report on a few indiscretions of your own." Caitlyn paused, before slumping into a seat across from him.

"You said you wouldn't try to blackmail me."

"I lied." Of course he had. Not even Caitlyn had truly believed him. Although she had hoped.

Thresh laughed. "Don't glare at me like that. If you're so against lying why don't you tell the public the exact reason why you arrested that unfortunate prisoner?" Caitlyn opened her mouth to reply, but no defence came out. "Tell me, was there ever an attack on your father in the first place?" Thresh's grin was unbearable. Caitlyn remained silent. "Lying to your people." Thresh taunted, "We have a fox amongst us."

"If you tell anyone," Caitlyn warned, "I will come. And make sure that you never talk again." Thresh looked at her with his vile eyes, searching her. At last he came to some sort of conclusion, mouth curling up.

"Empty threats? Just when I was getting excited."

"Don't make that assumption."

Thresh laughing knowingly. "Don't worry, it won't come to that. We can both keep our little secrets together." The very thought of being an accomplice to Thresh's crimes gave Caitlyn a sinking feeling in her stomach. Judging by the look of uncontained glee in Thresh's eyes, he had noticed her nausea. She exhaled in frustration, defeated.

"As you wish, I won't report you. I'll just have to stop you myself."

Thresh surveyed her for a moment as if considering how he should react. 'Can you?'

Caitlyn's answer was resolute. 'I will. Definitely.'

"I'd love to see you try." Judging by the glint in Thresh's eyes, even now he was treating this as a game between them; a battle of wills to determine who would fold first. Caitlyn was rapidly changing her opinion of the man. For the past four years, she realised, he had never revealed anything of his true nature. She regarded him warily now; he was dangerous, and fast becoming her problem.

* * *

Thanks for reading, please review/favourite/subscribe if you liked it :)


	2. Ultra Vires

**Hangman**

**2. Ultra Vires**

_adjective & adverb_

_Law_

beyond one's legal power or authority:

_[as adjective]:jurisdictional errors render the decision ultra vires_

* * *

By the time she returned home she was exhausted. A small lantern hanging above the door flickered on upon her entering the tiny walled courtyard and was her only illumination as she tried to jam her keys into the small hole on the brass knob. Opening the door, she groped around blindly for the light switch, and was rewarded with a click and the sound of startled scrabbling from somewhere farther inside the house. The house was all warm polished woods and thick carpets, it might even have been called homely had she the time to maintain it. At the moment however, everything seemed to be covered and dulled by a grimy layer of dust, and a few brown and withered used-to-be-plants stood in painted clay pots on her windowsill.

She slung her bag on a nearby couch and removed the ammunition from her rifle before carefully standing it up against the coat rack; letting the bullets fall into a box she had set aside for loose ammo. In the kitchen she called out to the shadowy figure that crouched above the wardrobe.

"Want some food Ace?" The old greying cat seemed to growl at her for a second before pouncing down, none too gracefully, and considering Caitlyn with wary yellow eyes. Cautiously, he approached the dish laid out and filled with dry cat food, and started to carefully lap at the food, legs tensed to flee at the first sign of danger. Caitlyn squatted and observed him. He'd been given to the police station after a nasty domestic dispute. Normally such an animal would be taken to the local pound, but Caitlyn had taken something of a fancy to it. Perhaps it was something to do with the thick grey coat of rough fur, speckled with rusty tips, and the white spade shaped patch on its forehead. At the very least it would be warm during the winter, she had reasoned. Well so far it hadn't exactly been the affectionate company she had imagined. The cat narrowed its eyes at her.

"Don't you dare look at me like that young man." Caitlyn reprimanded primly, doing what she believed was a brilliant impersonation of her paternal grandmother. It hissed at her and attempted to drag the dish towards the safety of under the table. The cat was old, it would die soon anyway, she consoled herself, although this did not make her feel any less stupid for taking in a pet; a real living creature that she evidently had to care for. Hopefully it would die of natural causes before it could meet the same misfortune as the plants on her sill.

Her sleep was fitful and came uneasily. She dreamt of her first arrest. She'd been scared but hadn't let it show. Stalking her prey through the streets, flitting from corner to corner like some wraith, fuelled by rage and something else. A bloodlust of sorts. She had enjoyed it, pointing the barrel of her father's rifle at his head; enjoyed it more than anything else she had done in her entire life before then. I know who you are, I know what you did. Come with me or I'll shoot your brains out. And then he had turned to look at her. Prisoner 3882. His face was white and sweat was dripping over his eyes. He simply stared at her. Don't tell anyone, she was telling him. As if he would ever talk again. In that cell, he had lost more than his life. Don't tell anyone. He opened his mouth, gaping wider and wider as if to swallow her in a moist, toothy darkness.

* * *

She checked in on Thresh the next evening after she had completed her work. Upon seeing her he grinned smugly.

"Are you here to amuse my poor self? Now that you've deprived me of my greatest pleasure in life?"

"Keeping you entertained isn't on my list of priorities." she responded. He did not rise from his seat behind the desk, opting instead to lean back in his chair and observe her. "I trust you won't mind if I supervise you on your rounds tonight." she asked. It was not a question, but Thresh still tried to refuse.

"Wouldn't the lovely Sheriff rather be out there hunting down petty thieves?" Somehow, Caitlyn managed to not rise to the taunt, stance firm and her usual withering stare fixed on her face. Thresh's look of sneering amusement dropped for an instant to one of irritation, "As determined as ever I see. Fine. I'm heading out now." In an abrupt yet somehow graceful motion he rose from his seat, swinging his chain scythe in his arms. Caitlyn raised her eyebrow at the glare she received as he passed her on the way to the door. "Don't blame me when all the filthy criminals downtown start breeding in your absence." Evidently Thresh was not above sulking.

Whilst the prisoners had risen to their bars, jeering and rattling on her way in, now they were silent, none even daring to look their way. By the smug look on the Warden's face, Caitlyn could tell that he enjoyed this demonstration of power. Each time he gave his scythe a casual swing nearby prisoners would cringe. It was the sort of fear and wariness that Caitlyn had never had, and never particularly wanted either. When you dealt with as many criminals as she had, you started to develop a grudging respect for them. This was unnatural and plain unnerving.

"What do you do to them?" Caitlyn tried to keep the awed horror out of her voice.

"I play with them. Train them. Like dogs."

"They're not dogs."

"I know." Thresh cackled, eyes alight with some fervour. "That's what makes it so amusing."

Caitlyn examined the face of a nearby prisoner. She remembered him. This one had been the leader of a drugs cartel downtown. He had once had a monopoly on the entire city's drug trade, taking cuts at every level of trade. Now he curled up in a ball on his bed, making himself as small as possible. He faced the wall, determinedly not looking in their direction. Thresh, noting the direction of her gaze, laughed.

"Woof woof." Caitlyn's fingers twitched around her gun. But no, she could only imagine the administrative nightmare she would have to endure if she gave into her temptation now. The callousness of her thoughts amused her and her mouth twitched slightly. Thresh gave her a curious look; she met it straight on, observing him. Looking at his expression now, a strange mix between annoyance at being so observed, and curiosity, Caitlyn realised that she bore the man little ill will. Not that that would stop her trigger finger if he proved more trouble than he was worth. One day, she acknowledged, it could come to that; but for now she was here as the Sheriff, not a bloody executioner. Once they were out of earshot of the prisoners Caitlyn cleared her throat.

"Is there any chance that you would consider admitting your actions to the authorities?" He grinned at her amused. Caitlyn continued, irritated, "No? And if I told them myself?" Thresh only grinned wider, seeming to enjoy her threats. Once again Caitlyn answered her own question. "Prisoner 3882 I presume."

"You read my mind Caitlyn."

Looking at the man standing next to her; hands running across the links of his chain and barely concealed delight on his face, Caitlyn was glad that she would never actually be subject to the going ons in his head.

"Tell me Warden, how do I stop you?" It was not a recommended question in situations like this. Never let a suspect know that you were uncertain of what to do with them. Except that Thresh already knew he'd thrown her, she could see it in his every movement. Hearing her words Thresh turned his gaze towards her, face thoughtful but eyes seeming to dance with excitement. Caitlyn had to remind herself to breathe as she waited for his answer.

'Why I've already stopped Sheriff." Caitlyn opened her mouth to object but Thresh continued before she spoke. "But, if someone wanted to make absolutely sure that I wouldn't have any relapses," he paused, eyes lingering uncomfortably on her, travelling over her slightly tilted hat, her disarrayed hair, her impassive face, "they would have to give me something else to amuse myself with." Caitlyn raised an eyebrow.

"And what is that?" She didn't like the way this conversation was going. Thresh's eyes were on hers, searching for some sort of reaction. This, she refused him.

'You.' The intensity of Thresh's gaze as he spoke sent an uncomfortable jolt down Caitlyn's back. Looking at Thresh now, she was painfully aware that she didn't find him entirely unattractive. Yet even the very thought of touching him filled her with a deep sense of foreboding; that strange tightening in your gut when you realised you'd stumbled across something dangerous. It was instinct that she had long since learned to listen to. Not to mention that she would hardly want to give him more fuel to blackmail her with. No, in fact it was a terrible idea.

So when she leaned in towards him, and brushed her hand against his, she attributed it to a morbid sense of curiosity, and a duty to gauge his intentions towards her. It was only a test, but she could still recognise the familiar high of adrenalin seeping through her veins. Their faces were so close that she could feel his breath. She intently watched him, searching for his reaction. A hint of curiosity, his usual antagonism and humour. Not much else.

With a quiet laugh to herself, Caitlyn stepped back, both relieved and a touch mortified.

"You don't want me Thresh." She told him. "You have no idea what it means to want someone."

Thresh's eyes narrowed at her tone. When he spoke his voice was defiant. "I want what I want." Caitlyn berated herself silently for responding to his lack of reaction the way she had; it was hardly her business.

"Sorry. I didn't mean anything by it."

"Of course not." His voice was cold and sharp. An uncomfortable silence settled between them.

Caitlyn spoke, voice serious, ending the silence. "Don't think you can trifle with me. You'll regret it."

"Will I? I'm rather enjoying it so far." Caitlyn loudly exhaled her irritation.

"It's time I took my leave." Thresh's eyes narrowed.

"Here I was thinking you were going to discipline me."

"I have a job, Warden. I can't spend all my time here babysitting you." Caitlyn noted the disappointment flash across Thresh's face, and reminded herself to find a solution that involved the least amount of contact with him as possible. She would not allow herself to be used as entertainment.

* * *

"Justice Pria." Caitlyn bowed her head to her superior, and stood in the doorway until she was beckoned forward by the elderly woman.

"Sheriff." Pria acknowledged. "It's unusual to see you outside of the courtroom. To what do I owe the pleasure?' Caitlyn was very aware of Pria observing her from behind her half crescent glasses. She swallowed, wondering if she would face any repercussions for lying to the Justice. It was for the greater good.

"You may be aware that I visited the state prison last night." Probably not, but it was always better to flatter superiors. Pria did not reply, instead waiting for Caitlyn to continue. "The Night Warden has developed the habit of bolting his office door behind him. I was worried, so I conducted something of a quick inspection."

"Did you find anything?" Caitlyn shook her head.

"There was nothing. The prisoners were perfectly behaved. Too perfectly behaved. It didn't feel right."

"And you believe there is something suspicious going on here." It wasn't a question, but a statement. The Justice slowly removed her spectacles.

"The calm before the storm." Caitlyn elaborated. "I believe the prisoners are plotting trouble. The Warden feels it too, but is too proud to admit it." Pria sighed audibly and started to shuffle her papers.

"I see your point, Sheriff. I'll have somebody review prison security, and assess the Night Warden's competencies." It wasn't the response Caitlyn had been hoping for. A review of prison security was a heavily bureaucratic process and could take months, giving Thresh ample time to mask his tracks. Caitlyn gritted her teeth and pushed harder, praying that her true intentions would not be doubted. Pria was shrewd, the smallest movement of the face and she would sniff a lie.

"There's no need for a review; this is easily solved. It's just a matter of the cells being understaffed at night. I can offer a couple of my staff to act as a deterrent to any prisoners hoping to create trouble."

The justice narrowed her eyes slightly, ''What a convenient solution."

"I do have ulterior motives." Caitlyn admitted sheepishly. "There are two particular subordinates in my department. Loyal men, but not suited for patrol yet. I've had them on paperwork for the last couple of months. They get restless though. Honestly this situation in the prison is a good opportunity for them to get some experience in practical situations." It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the truth either. She kept her face blank under the judging assessment from Pria.

"I see. Well, in that case I have no objections to your proposition. Goodness knows it's about time we increased our prison night staff, they seem to have been quitting at an alarming rate in the past couple of years. I'll have the transfer papers prepared..."

"I've already take the liberty of having the papers prepared, all you need to do is sign." Caitlyn produced a roll of papers, emboldened by her small victory. Pria raised her eyebrows as she received the papers and began to inspect them methodically.

"My, you are eager today Caitlyn."

"Just being efficient ma'am."

"About this Warden, Thresh, I am rather unfamiliar with him. Should I be worried about his suitability for the job?" The question caught Caitlyn off guard. She said the first thing that came to her mind.

"No."

"No?"

"He's competent enough. Just a bit inexperienced. And..." Where was she even going with this? She lapsed into silence, which was broken only by the dull thumping of Pria stamping the documents.

"Here is your authorisation, Sheriff." announced Pria, holding out the rolled up papers. "And about the Night Warden, I'll leave you to keep an eye on him. I will trust your judgement in this matter." Caitlyn thanked her superior, trying to push down the feeling of guilt that she was getting far too well acquainted with. Of all the people in Piltover who could have been tasked with the job of keeping an eye on Thresh, it had to be Caitlyn. She was starkly reminded of how much things had changed. She had earned the trust of Piltover through ten years of hard work and devotion. Now she couldn't even trust herself.

* * *

As she had promised, Caitlyn assigned two of her subordinates to the role of the Warden's assistants. They weren't her sharpest men, but had a sense of rule-abidingness that would prevent any indiscretions on Thresh's part. The correct thing to do in this situation would be to accompany them and introduce them to the Warden personally. The prison was only ten minutes away, and she would hardly be missed during a short absence. But on this particular day Caitlyn found herself reluctant to make the trip. She had no wish to see the Warden so soon after her last visit.

Instead she wrote them a letter of recommendation, in which was included a very formal and concise explanation of their assignment to the prison division. Unsure as to whether she should use her name or her title when signing off, she decided simply to stamp the letter with the police crest.

'Officer Yvoric, Officer Karls, do you understand the task appointed to you?' They stood straight and responded affirmative.

'May I remind you that it is no office you are going to? That even one mistake can endanger all of your lives?'

'Yes Sheriff.'

'Make sure to accompany the Warden on his rounds; do not let him patrol alone.'

'Yes Sheriff.'

'And keep in mind that the Police Department offers free counselling sessions for all active staff.'

'Yes Sheriff.' They responded, despite the confusion showing on their faces. She did not try to explain to them.

'Off with you. Remember to keep me informed.'

The send off was not completely free of guilt. Here were two naive officers, believing that the only enemy of theirs were those locked up behind bars. Knowing them, they would probably never realise. Perhaps, a guilty voice inside her head said, you should have gone with them after all. She brushed it aside and grabbed her coat.

"Going somewhere Sheriff?"

"I need some air Haynes. Put me down for patrol." Her assistant raised a brow.

"Regulations say that you need at least three days notification of shift changes."

"So you've told me before. Make an exception."

"As you wish." He replied, giving Caitlyn a look of disapproval that was near identical to that of Pria. She rolled her eyes.

Outside the air was frigid against her face. The cobblestone streets shone with the recent rain, and as she walked her steps sent sprays of water through the air. Above the sky was clear, pale blue showing through the wispy layers of cloud. It had been a while since Caitlyn had been out on patrol. It was a job that anyone could do; coordinating the entire police force, not so much.

This early in the morning the street lights still glowed faintly, although the sun had risen almost two hours ago. A few hurried residents passed her by, presumably on their way to work.

Before long Caitlyn found her feet, unbidden, leading her on the familiar path away from the city centre. The narrowing of roads to uneven cobblestone walkways signalled that she was entering lower town. A few shops and vendors were arranging their products on the side paths in preparation for the morning shoppers. She passed this by, heading deeper into the area that had once been known as the slums of Piltover, breeding crime like it was a disease. She'd devoted years of her life to clearing out this particular pit. Now it was quiet with peaceful residents going about their business. The old ramshackle wooden buildings had been developed, layers of solid white stone and elaborately carved detail in their place. The overall effect was almost respectable. Almost.

Travel farther down the tiny alleyways, squeeze through the cracks between houses, and the ugly side of the city was revealed. The benefits of the last decade of progress had yet to filter through in full to the bottom feeders, and even though the improvement was beyond measure trouble was never far in downtown Piltover. But most days now there was rarely anything to worry about bar a few shop thefts by the local children; nothing that couldn't be dealt with using only a stern look and a flash of her rifle.

If only dealing with Thresh could be as easy. She gritted her teeth. It was terrifying. Although so far she had managed to keep her head, Thresh knew a secret that could destroy her and her family. He had agreed to keep his knowledge to himself so long as she did the same with her knowledge of his less tasteful hobbies. But there was no guarantee that he would honour his end of the bargain now that she had made arrangements to have his actions supervised. She wondered if she should have finished him off after all. It would have been so easy to shoot him the instant he had let on what he knew about her. She shook the thought out of her head; it was her fear talking for her. No one could take the law into their own hands, not even the Sheriff. Not even to stop a loose cannon as dangerous as Thresh. But the thought remained, and Caitlyn made no attempt to completely banish it from her mind.


	3. Sadism

**Hangman**

**3. Sadism**

_noun_

_[mass noun]_

A personality disorder denoting conduct that subjects a victim to extreme or prolonged pain or humiliation and is inflicted to produce suffering or for the offender's gratification: _beneath the apparent loving concern she had glimpsed spite and sadism_

* * *

"Father, pass the gravy please." Obligingly Caitlyn's father passed over the silver pitcher of gravy. She poured the sauce generously over her roast lamb and fell upon it with knife and fork. Her mother tutted disapprovingly.

"Manners, Caitlyn. Eat in a way befitting of a lady." Caitlyn bit back her annoyance at being reprimanded by her mother when she was already well into her twenties, and Sheriff of Piltover to boot. She opted instead to nod and slow the pace at which she shovelled food down her throat. Elinor nodded encouragingly. "Good girl." Eating the chef prepared food at her parent's manor had recently become something of a treat to Caitlyn; cooking was a luxury that she rarely had time for, and as such her own pantry was filled with dry cat food, packets of instant noodles and very little else. Needless to say this was something she tried to hide from her parents. If they knew they would likely insist that she move back home permanently. Polishing the plate clean, Caitlyn delicately wiped at her mouth with a napkin.

"Sorry mother, busy day at work." She gave this as a way of explanation for her manners, although admittedly she had never exactly been lady material.

"Working hard chasing down those criminals I see." said her father, grinning and holding up a roasted turnip speared on his fork in approval. Caitlyn felt her smile falter for an instant before she recovered it.

"Not _chasing_ exactly. We're trying to crack down on corporate fraud."

"Corporate fraud?" He queried, "That sounds... Good."

"I believe tame is the word you're looking for." responded Caitlyn dryly. Her mother interrupted.

"No, it's good. I won't have to worry about you as much. God knows a little rest from all that running about could do you good."

"You call this rest? You have no idea how slippery those board members are; I just want to grab them by their slimy throats and throttle the life out of them. They're like politicians. No offense Father." He waved the insult away and laughed.

"Sounds like a good description of my colleagues." Caitlyn chose not to remind him that he was just as bad as those he worked with. She leaned back in her chair and tilted her face upwards. The dim lights of the chandelier reflected off the plaster ceiling, flawless white as far as you could see. Looking at her family's situation now, no one would guess how close it had been to breaking once, with its fate resting, or so she had believed, on the shoulders of a 14 year old Caitlyn. Did she regret her actions now? It was something she preferred to not dwell on. Yet even now whenever her father spoke to her in his light, joking way, she would find her lips curl defiantly, as if she could not help but push the blame for her actions onto him. Perhaps that was her real regret. That and the vexing position she found herself in now, she thought.

It had been over a week since she had visited the prison; white collar crimes were often resolved through fines as opposed to incarceration. The daily recounts of their prison duties she required from Yvoric and Karls proved boring, depicting a normally functioning prison system. Boring was good, Caitlyn had to remind herself. She wondered if it would be alright to never visit the Warden again, and to simply forget this whole mess. Violent crimes had been rapidly drying up under her leadership and the government seemed eager for her to turn her attentions on other forms of crime, particularly large company fraud. That was where the profit was. Suddenly her trigger finger started to itch. Would they let her take leg shots at business executives as they ran, she wondered. If they even had the guts to run. She pushed down the bubble of discontent she could feel rising up in her chest.

"Caitlyn?" It was her father. She snapped back to attention. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, just tired." She brushed off his concern. "What were we talking about?"

"You don't have to this you know."

"Do what?"

"Work so hard." Caitlyn sent a warning glare to her father; he continued regardless. "I can introduce you to a few respectable men from my party. Men with good futures."

"If I ever get that desperate." Preferably not. God forbid she ever be reduced to prostituting out her dignity.

'Just consider it. You've already done so much for Piltover, no one could fault you for taking a break from law enforcement, not when you've sacrificed so much.' Caitlyn appreciated his concern, but it was futile; taking a break from law enforcement was akin to taking a break from breathing.

Her father's suggestion seemed to have fuelled something inside Caitlyn, because the next day she found herself approaching work with a silent fury, as if to prove that she was indeed perfectly capable of handling her job. She made rapid enquiries over the phone in quick succession, giving her contacts not much more than a fired query before hanging up upon hearing the answer. The accountants sent over from the tax department were working at an infuriatingly slow pace - Complicated process? Can't you just add up the figures and tell me if they're wrong?! - and they had started to shoot off irritable glares at her approach. With her investigation in full swing and her co-workers adequately terrorized, everything was as Caitlyn liked it. Once the sky outside began to grow dark and she was satisfied that there was not much further she could contribute at this point, she put her desk in good order and stood up to stretch.

"I'm out for the day Haynes. Close up for me."

"Have a safe trip home."

"Unfortunately I'm not headed home."

* * *

Stepping into the cold concrete hallways again, she felt no small amount of guilt. As the saying went, if you want something done properly, do it yourself. She did not have to traverse far in the halls before finding Thresh, trailed by Yvoric and Karls. Her two subordinates brightened at the sight of her, giving her a wave before approaching. Thresh held back, instead giving her a dirty look.

'How's patrol going officers?'

'Nothing out of the ordinary, Sheriff.' Reported Karls. Yvoric nodded in agreement. As she accompanied them on their rounds they explained the processes followed in the prison. From what time the night shift ran to, under what circumstances the prisoners were allowed to leave their cells, when lights out was enforced. All of this while Thresh hung back, following them at a leisurely pace and giving the occasional white faced prisoner a menacing grin. As they approached the end of Block D, Caitlyn urged them to go ahead onto their next patrol block, and requested to speak alone to Thresh. Once the backs of her two subordinates disappeared down the corridor, Thresh spoke to her.

'You never greeted me.' He had a glint in his eyes, something that seemed akin to excitement, although his face showed only the forlorn hurt of an abandoned puppy. She did not feel too much sympathy.

'It's been a while, Warden.' The pale man grinned at the acknowledgement.

'Welcome back Sheriff.' And then he started to walk down the corridor, in the opposite direction to where Karls and Yvoric had proceeded. He looked over his shoulder, silently urging Caitlyn to follow him. Instead of heading towards his office as she had expected, Thresh lead her down a small stone corridor, unlocking a sturdy door to reveal an iron staircase spiralling downwards into darkness. The handrail was rusty, and ice cold to the touch. Thresh lit the lantern he carried, flame shining through the grimy glass to throw ghostly pale green light over the stairwell. Mossy stone walls pressed close around them. Although she tried, Caitlyn could not make out what was at the bottom of the descent, or even how far off it was. She began to feel the slight pangs of claustrophobia settling in, although she brushed it aside and simply gritted her teeth.

"Where are we going?" She could not see Thresh's face, but she could most certainly hear his cackle, echoing throughout the space eerily.

"You'll see." At that moment, strangely, it occurred to Caitlyn that she might in such a situation, reasonably be scared. She gripped her rifle tighter, but didn't think it would make much of a weapon in such a small space. Honestly, as she listened to his footsteps, for all his advantage in size lighter than her own, she did not believe Thresh planned to harm her. At least she hoped so; she had been wrong about people before. The lantern that Thresh held would flicker every now and then, shadows dancing over her face, and she could feel a growing tingling in her feet as they descended deeper and deeper. At last the stairs ended, and a small corridor sloped downwards before levelling before a bolted door. Thresh stood aside for Caitlyn, presumably intending for her to open the door.

"May I have the honour?"

"Be my guest."

The iron bolt felt heavy in her hand, but came out smoothly regardless. It was well oiled. The door opened, a draft of stale air and the smell of disinfectant blowing over Caitlyn's face. Masked under the smell of mildew and bleach was the slightest hint of something foul. She stepped forwards, Thresh's lantern throwing her shadow across the entryway.

"Welcome," he cackled, "to my respite."

'What do you mean by that?' She asked, although the hairs standing up on the back of her neck were enough to alert her suspicions. It was a foul place they had come to indeed. Thresh produced a candle and opened his lantern, bringing the white wick to the fire and waiting for it to catch.

'There is something,' he hesitated, 'about destroying a person. Slowly.' Using the candle, he lit a lamp mounted on the wall next to them that Caitlyn had not noticed in the dark. The surrounding area came into dimply lit focus. White tiled floor, concrete walls. Chains hung from iron braces on the wall.

"Seeing people still hoping to be saved." His smile was dark and wistful. "Their hope, turning to despair. Oh they can still hope, they just don't want to anymore. You see hope betrays."

"How fascinating." noted Caitlyn, throat dry. Thresh didn't respond, moving farther into the darkness and lighting lamp after lamp. The room was revealed in its entirely. Black hooks on the ceiling suspended more chains. A table stood chillingly in the centre of the room, shackles attached to the wooden surface. An innocuous drain was set in a corner, dark red residue streaking towards it. Caitlyn didn't even want to start imagining what the cabinets standing along the walls contained.

'I like to show people how little a body is actually worth. They're always so sure that it's theirs, their own. But soon they learn. You've got their life in your hands, and when they realise...' Thresh threw his head back and closed his eyes, a smile playing across his lips. Any response that Caitlyn might have given died in her throat. The smile was free from all his usual cruelty and mad hilarity. Strange that he could be so beautiful when imagining the pain and suffering of others. How many people, she wondered, had found themselves caught in his cruel fantasies. The moment passed, and Caitlyn felt a look of disgust creep up on her face. A look that Thresh did not miss.

"Do you find my hobbies disagreeable?"

"Of course I do. Disagreeable. Despicable." This seemed to reassure Thresh.

"I can hold prisoners here for months. All I need to do is say I've put them in solitary confinement and no one asks questions. Sometimes I'd even bring a couple, chain them up for a bit; let them get to know each other. And then I'd take one and let the other watch as I break him."

Caitlyn swallow and looked at Thresh wordlessly, trying to fathom how it was possible for a soul to be so twisted.

"What do you think?" he prodded.

"I have nothing to say."

'Yes you do, you've got plenty to say. I know you Caitlyn.' She remained stubbornly silent for a moment before talking.

"You didn't build this room, did you?"

"It was overlooked when they were converting the old torture cells to storage. No one else seemed to want it, so I appropriated the room for myself." It was easy enough to imagine a room like this being missed in a state prison as sprawling as this one.

"And how do you choose your victims?"

"I choose the ones no one will notice missing, prisoners who are in here for life. Prisoners who get into fights too; no one seems to care very much when they turn up dead." Caitlyn cringed; she had seem the annual deaths of these prisons before. They were high, but she had never stopped to question the causes. Now she had to wonder how many of those little black numbers could be attributed to the man standing before her. His eyes bore into hers, filled with anticipation.

"How many?" She asked. Thresh gave a deep sigh of frustration.

"You're not asking the important questions!"

"And what might they be?"

"I don't know, maybe why did I take you here? What do I plan to do with you? Am I going to hurt you? Because I do want to hurt you Caitlyn, a lot." He lapsed into silence, staring wordlessly at Caitlyn as if trying to will her to understand. The silence was broken by Caitlyn's laugh, harsh and unnatural in the space.

"You want to hurt me? And I suppose you expect me to just lie down and let you?" Thresh gave her an irritated look.

"Yes yes, you're the Sheriff with the big gun and I'm merely a prison guard. I get it."

"As long as you understand."

Thresh surveyed her thoughtfully. "You couldn't look even a little scared? You know I really would like to hurt you."

"And I really would love to see your brain all over the floor." was her curt reply.

"How boring." He grumbled. "I was joking anyway; that's not why I brought you here. What I intended to do was show you where I take the prisoners when I get lonely." His eyes glinted maliciously, she noted.

"Were Yvoric and Karls not good enough company?" She asked, feigning ignorance. The look of disgust on Thresh's face would have been comical had he been anyone else.

"They are two of the most mundane men I have met in my entire life. I believe I asked you to amuse me, not your two loyal lackeys." Taking a step towards her, Thresh reached out a hand in her direction. Automatically, Caitlyn brushed it aside. He did not seem to notice. "I get destructive when left unsupervised. Do you really want to be responsible for any slips I might have?"

"You're still not taking me seriously, are you Warden?" Her voice this time was weary.

"No." Caitlyn leaned against the wall and surveyed the room of horrors she had found herself in.

"When you've got a prisoner strapped down, and he's shouting, begging for his life, do you honestly feel nothing?"

"No. I feel..." He hesitated, searching for the right word. "Everything."

"I mean for them, do you feel anything for the prisoner?" Thoughtfully, Thresh sat on the edge of the centre table and was silent. Caitlyn had begun to wonder if he was ever planning on answering her question when he suddenly spoke.

"It's like an echo."

"An echo?"

"You look into their eyes and you see them, seeing you, seeing them. And it just keeps on echoing." He locked eyes with her. This time the eye contact was distinctly uncomfortable. "At least until I gouge their eyes out." He laughed at his own joke.

"They don't deserve to die like that."

"They're criminals, scum of Piltover. And you seemed happy enough with the thought of killing me." Caitlyn bristled at this comparison.

"Their crimes aren't even comparable to yours." She snapped back. Thresh considered for a moment and then grinned.

"And yet here I am, free to dispose of them as I see fit. Isn't it wonderful?" Something about the self-assured way with which Thresh spoke filled Caitlyn with a sudden anger. When she spoke her voice was calm, but filled with ice.

"One day you'll pay the consequences for what you've done. You may have my hands tied up now but the authorities aren't stupid."

"All the more reason to enjoy myself while I can." He waved his hand casually in the air. "Tell me something. Why do you care so much? These people don't really mean anything to you." She glared at him irritated, something that Thresh seemed to enjoy judging by the grin on his face.

"Common decency." Any normal man would have been ashamed of themself, but Thresh delighted in her reprimand.

"Common decency, let me tell you something about it," he paused, looking sideways at Caitlyn, "it doesn't exist. There are only those who take what they want, and those who justify their weakness with something like _common decency_." He hissed out these last words, allowing them to linger on his tongue.

"What an optimistic view of human nature." Sarcasm dripped liked venom from Caitlyn's voice.

"You're weak Caitlyn." he said, viciously enthralled with his declaration. "You throw around pretty words like justice, pandering to society's every expectation. But inside, underneath all of your...respectability, it's all darkness. You don't want what they want. They don't even want what they want." He was looking straight at her, as if trying to bore a hole through her head with sheer intensity. "All you need to do is reach out..." He allowed his words to trail off.

She narrowed her eyes. Caitlyn knocked her hand against a wall.

"What do you think it is that made this prison? People. Weak people."

"And here I was thinking that it was hard work with a pinch of love." Caitlyn did not laugh.

"Do you think any of the people who worked on these walls actually wanted to build this prison? No. They wanted money. Yet the prison was still built. We're all weak, but it was built."

Thresh sneered, "Thank you for that enlightening history lesson."

Caitlyn ignored his words. "You're all alone. If I put a knife to your throat, and cut, you'll bleed to death just like the rest of us. That's how weak you are."

Thresh's eyes glinted. He rose from the bench and pulled out a drawer, running his hands over the lined up selection of knives before lifting one up and inspecting the long, razor sharp blade.

"Try now." He demanded, gripping it by the blade and holding out the hilt of the knife towards Caitlyn. "Cut my throat here and see if I die." He was crazy, Caitlyn decided. The blade of the knife cut into his trembling hand where he gripped it. He was excited. She hesitantly reached out for the knife, holding it limply and entirely unsure of what to do with it. All she could manage to do was watch Thresh sweep his dark braids out of the way and bare his neck expectantly. She braced one hand on his shoulder, and felt unexpected warmth in her hand seeping through his coat. She adjusted the knife so that the blade rested against his pale skin. He did not flinch or shy away, instead remaining perfectly still. His eyes taunted her.

"This is stupid." She withdrew her arm and pushed the hilt of the knife against his bleeding hand. He didn't take the knife off of her, instead placing his hand gently over hers. It was warm and slippery with his blood.

"And that..." he said leaning in close to her, "was you being weak." Caitlyn looked down at his hand trailing blood over her skin.

"Perhaps I just prefer you alive." She suggested, retrieving her hand from his and moving to the still open cabinet. She replaced the knife in an empty space and quietly closed the drawer. "Shall we return; my officers will start to wonder why we've been so long." Thresh had been watching her curiously this whole time, but seemed to recover his usual infuriating demeanour.

"Running away again?" He taunted.

"Yes, maybe. I'm tired." She pulled out her pocket watch, careful not to get any blood on it, and flicked it open to see that it was almost midnight. "And I still haven't fed my cat." Hopefully it wouldn't be too destructive waiting for its dinner.

As they made the tiring ascent Thresh made small talk about her cat.

"What's its name?"

"Ace. Do you really care?"

"No." And then as an afterthought, "But I like asking you mundane questions when you're not in the mood to talk." She repressed the urge to turn around and shove him down the stairs, instead focusing on walking and ignoring his inane chattering. At last they made it to his office, where Caitlyn closed the door, giving Thresh an irritable look before asking if he had anything for his hand. He looked down at his palm and seemed momentarily confused to see it in its state.

"I'd forgotten about this..." He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a bottle filled with amber liquid. Caitlyn raised her eyebrows.

"I hope you're not planning on drinking that." she half joked, although in all honesty she probably wouldn't have been very surprised if he had. Thresh moved over to a small metal basin attached to the wall in a corner, and poured the alcohol over his wounds, a delighted grimace crossing his face as he did so.

"I have bandages, fifth draw from the left and third down."

As Caitlyn walked around the desk it occurred to her that she had never seen it from this side before. There were about a hundred square draws, brass knobs tarnished depending on frequency of use she assumed. The handle on this particular draw was well worn, a dull silver grey. She pulled it open.

"Thresh, are these _human _fingers?"

"Oh, sorry. Did I say 5th from the left third down? I meant third from the left fifth down."

"How droll of you." She closed the drawer with a queasy feeling in her stomach and this time opened the correct one, pulling out a white roll of bandages. "Come here." she ordered, and was partly surprised that Thresh actually complied with her order. She took his hand roughly and wound the bandage tightly about it.

"You've done this before." Thresh observed.

"All officers are required to take a basic first aid course." She tightened the last knot with more force than was strictly required.

"Thank you." His words sounded sincere and for a moment as he flexed his injured hand Caitlyn looked on bemused.

"You don't mean that." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Just being polite. Not everyone's as barbaric as you." Unexpectedly Caitlyn found herself laughing at this comment, and then stopped, somewhat disappointed in herself. She gave him one last look of disapproval before taking her leave of his company.

* * *

Finished my exams recently so here is an update. Hopefully the story is going alright so far, if you have any suggestions for improvement it will be much appreciated :)


End file.
